What You Know
by killiansbuttercup
Summary: Killian Jones and his best mate Robin Locksley are reporters for TIME Magazine. They are assigned to work on a piece about President David Nolan, his wife Mary Margaret, and daughter Emma. For Killian, it's an opportunity to save his job, but he might get more than he bargained for along the way.


**A/N: **FF had deleted the borders that switched the POV's before, sorry!

* * *

"Liam wants to see both of us in his office."

Killian looked up above his cubicle to see his coworker Robin Locksley staring down at him with waiting eyes. _What did Liam want with the two of them?_

"Now, you wanker!" Robin said in his strong British accent, which was much like Killian's own, throwing a pen at his head.

Killian begrudgingly got up from his desk chair to walk with Robin down the narrow office hallway to their boss's corner office.

Robin and Killian had met each other while attending university in England where they had both studied journalism. Killian's brother Liam had moved to the states and landed an executive job at TIME magazine in New York a few years before they had graduated. Somehow they had both managed to score interviews with the magazine and, subsequently, jobs. Killian liked to think Liam put in a good word for the both of them with the people who made the hiring decisions. The pair of them had moved to New York together, and now roomed and worked in the same place.

As they entered Liam's office, he looked up at them with a smile. "Brother, nice to see you." Liam greeted Killian, somewhat passively. He stood up to extend his hand to his brother, then nodded in his companion's direction, extending his hand once again. "Robin."

"Now that I have you two here, I need to discuss with you an article I am assigning to the both of you." Liam handed the both of them manila folders with a few papers in them. "You're going to Washington D.C. to cover a very important story about Nolan being re-elected."

"_David_ Nolan? The _president_? We're doing a story on _him_?" Killian asked, in complete disbelief.

"Yes, President Nolan," Liam clarified, his tone gruff and impatient at his employees' apparent need for reiteration. "It also has to do with his wife, Mary Margaret, as well as their daughter, Emma. You remember the exposé on the first 100 days of the Nolan presidency_?_ They want to do it again for his second term, and you two were picked to write it."

Liam gestured to the papers in their hands. "The folders I handed you both have some background information on them and their pasts, important information you need to know to be able to cover this well."

They all sat in silence for a moment while Robin and Killian flipped casually through the pages they were handed. Liam looked at them expectantly, and when they didn't make a sound, he decided to speak. "You need to study up tonight, because you're leaving tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow_?" They said in near unison.

"Yes," Liam sighed and gave a slight roll of his eyes, "tomorrow."

He pointed at Robin, "You don't have any prior commitments or articles to work on." He then turned and pointed his finger at Killian, "Neither do you. You, in fact, you are on thin ice. Ever since you returned from that trip to England, you've been slacking off and doing piss-poor work. I've stuck my neck out for you with the people upstairs, but I can't do it anymore. You're kin to me, but I _cannot_ keep sticking up for you and being disappointed." Liam pursed his lips as he looked at Killian, taking a moment to make sure that his younger brother understood the gravity of his words. "This is it. This is your last chance."

* * *

Killian and Robin returned to their Brooklyn flat shortly afterward, having been sent home early to get an opportunity to pack their things and go over the files that Liam had given them.

"So, 3 months? We're going to be down there for 3 bloody _months_?" Killian complained to Robin, opening their fridge and grabbing a beer for the both of them.

He tossed it to Robin, still grumbling in dissatisfaction. "It can't be _that_ bad, mate." Robin offered in an attempt at reassuring his friend and roommate, "There's a whole new pool of women in D.C." He asserted.

"Yeah, guess so." Killian sighed with a forced chuckle, taking a swig of his beer. Women were the last thing on his mind at the moment. He was still getting over Milah, even though it had been at least 6 months now, and—

"You see the picture of Nolan's daughter in here?" Robin asked, pulling Killian from what could only be a downward spiral of thoughts.

"No. I haven't seen a lot of pictures of her in the press either. She's been at Princeton, or Harvard, or…one of those ivy leagues. Why?" Killian opened his file to her picture, suddenly curious about the woman. She was pretty, no denying that.

"She's kinda hot." Robin muttered under his breath with a shrug of his shoulders, as if he already knew what Killian's reaction to the statement was going to be.

Killian rolled his eyes. "Buggering fuck Robin, of course you would say that." He grabbed his file and walked over to sit next to his friend on the couch.

"I swear, it's like ever since your breakup with Marian—" Killian stopped in his tracks when he saw his friend's face drop. "Aw, shit, mate, I'm sorry."

"I don't talk about Milah, you don't talk about Marian. That's the deal." Robin replied coolly.

Hearing that name out loud sent a terrible shiver down Killian's spine. He looked down into his file, trying to forget the situation was ever brought up. "Aye."

* * *

These shoes were _killing_ her feet. Damn, were they cute, but they _hurt_. They were going to hurt even worse by the time her father had finished all of his inauguration day duties.

The black-and-white T-strap heels were perfect with her outfit, but she probably should have put some more thought into her choice of footwear, especially considering the fact that she was supposed to standing for the majority of the day.

Emma had picked out a cream colored Kate Spade dress with black polka dots. It had a bit of a ruffle over her chest and a slim black belt around the waist. The cold weather had caused her to pair it with black tights and her large yellow pea coat. Her very hurtful shoes were Kate Spade as well, and matched her outfit perfectly. She looked every part the president's daughter, despite her minimal training to play it.

Her father's first four years in office were spent doing his presidential duties in the white house, while Emma was at Yale working for a degree. She had just graduated this past December, and while she wanted to take some time to travel and see the world, her parents wanted her to go to law school. Somehow it seemed that some time with them in the White House was a good middle ground for the time being.

She kept an indifferent look on her face, despite the pain in her feet, while her father began to repeat after the Chief Justice. (Leroy, who had been a good friend of her mother's during law school.)

President Nolan held his right hand upward, shoulders back and deep voice booming as he repeated the oath in front of the crowd, "I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any…"

Emma kept the same neutral expression on her face as her mind began to wonder away from the situation in front of her, and onto the dress that she was so eager to wear tonight for the inaugural ball.

* * *

"You've packed all your suits and whatnot, right?" Robin asked Killian as they put their suitcases up to be weighed.

"Yes, Robin. Do you really think I'm daft enough to forget my suits for a trip like this?" Killian asked exasperatedly, pulling his ticket out of his back pocket and presenting it to the airline worker who had just asked to see it.

Robin put his hands up in defense. "Just thought I'd check."

The pair finished up at the luggage check-in and began their walk around the airport to security. "What time are we getting there?" Killian asked.

"Did you even _read_ any of your material?" Robin asked, the tone of his voice indicating his disapproval of Killian's lax attitude toward this job.

Killian gave him a sideways look and a shrug that said, 'Do I ever?'

"Killian, you need to seriously put some work into this. Your job isn't the only one at risk here, so's your best mate's!" Robin reminded him, poking Killian in the back. "You are a fantastic journalist, but you need to clean up your act." Killian gave him an apologetic look and Robin hoped that it meant his friend was going to try harder.

As they put their shoes back on and continued on the path towards their terminal, Robin spoke up. "Since you didn't seem to look at any of it, I'll go ahead and let you know the plans. The flight is supposed to take about 2 hours at the most, and then we check into the hotel. We should have enough time to get lunch and then get ready for the Inaugural Ball, since we've been invited to that."

"We sharing a bedroom, mate?" Killian asked with a chuckle and raised his eyebrow in jest. "Is it going to be college all over again?"

Robin rolled his eyes at Killian's bad joke, although there was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Very funny, Killian. Honestly, mate, you're a laugh-riot."

"Don't worry," Killian went on, biting back a smile, "I'll remember to put a tie on the door more often this time around." He elbowed Robin in the shoulder a bit, earning him a reluctant laugh from his friend.

"As much as I would _love_ to go through that debacle with you again, the company sprung for two-bedroom suite. Kitchen and everything."

Killian nodded his head in silent approval as they reached the terminal and sat down, waiting to board their plane.

* * *

_One more event today_, Emma reminded herself as she plopped down for a moment of rest on the bed in her newly-appointed bedroom.

Emma looked up at the long, blue gown with a cutout Bateau neckline that she was wearing to the inaugural ball. As much as she didn't like to give off the image that she was uppity or some sort of rich snob, she did love _some_ of the perks of being the president's daughter.

(_But then again, what girl wouldn't?_)

Perks such as going to balls and wearing fancy dresses, or something like getting your own hair and makeup stylist for special events (which were pretty frequent around here – or so she had been told.) Lucky for Emma, her best friend happened to be practiced in both areas.

Emma stood up and walked across the room to look at her dress a little closer when her stylist, Ruby, walked in and plopped down on her bed. Emma chuckled at her friend's automatic sense of home. "Hey, Ruby."

When the point came around to pick a stylist, Emma already had one in mind. With Ruby being Emma's longtime best friend (since high school), her mother had readily accepted her choice.

"Hey, Emma. This is a pretty nice place." Ruby replied as she craned her neck to get a better sense of her surroundings.

Emma looked at the girl and tilted her head to the side. "You think?" They both chuckled at Emma's attempt at sarcasm. "So, where is all your makeup and hair stuff?" Emma questioned, taking note of her friend's empty hands.

"She didn't tell you?" Ruby asked as she sat up on the bed, knitting her brow at Emma in confusion, "Your mom said she wanted you guys to get ready together."

"I think she might have been a little busy doing that whole 'First Lady' thing." Emma commented with a shake of her head as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She knew that she should be used to the idea of her mother actually having official things to do, but after being away at college for most of her father's first term, Emma was coming to the realization that life in the White House was going to be a huge adjustment for her.

She just hoped she was ready for it.

* * *

"So, you're telling me that two reporters are going to just be hanging around like staff on most days, getting almost full access to write an article on us? For almost _three_ _months_? Why didn't I know about this sooner?" Emma didn't mean to take on such a demanding tone, and especially not with her mother, but she was frustrated that she was left out of the loop with such huge information.

"It slipped our minds with all of this Inaugural mess going on." Mary Margaret shrugged.

Emma huffed, letting the subject go quickly.

"Well, besides that, how are you getting along with the staff and security?" Mary Margaret asked, more than willing to change the subject.

"The security doesn't really talk much." Emma muttered as she sat down in a nearby chair and crossed her legs at the knee.

She had always wondered what it would be like to have her own security detail, what with all the movies and TV she'd seen. However, the reality was much less exciting. Most of the guards barely ever said anything to her other than 'good morning' or 'goodnight,' and she was going beginning to wonder if that was the reason they were called the _Secret _Service. She smiled inwardly at her own lame joke just as her mother began speaking to her again.

"Well, what about your personal guard? We appointed him with you in mind."

Emma smiled a bit at the mention of Graham. He had been introduced to her the second she walked over the threshold and into the White House and he had barely left her side since. He was a nice enough guy, maybe around thirty-or-so years old, and there was no denying he was handsome. Not really her type, though. He was quite possibly the only member of the security team that had actually tried to make her feel welcome, more like a resident of the house and less like a princess in a bubble. If she were going to make friends with any of the security, he would be it.

"He's alright, I guess." Emma replied with a mockingly-bored tone in her voice. Sure, she liked Graham well enough, but there was no reason to let her mother know it. It would only give her more fodder for the 'do you like that boy' game, as if she was in high school all over again. She swore that sometimes her mother forgot she even went to college.

* * *

"That was one _hell_ of a debriefing. I feel violated." Killian said, looking around the room at the various degrees of celebrity standing around him. He suddenly understood why such a thorough security check was needed.

"You're not the only one." Robin agreed with a light chuckle.

Just as he finished speaking, a woman in a long, black gown walked over to them. The bodice of her sleeveless dress was made of leather and accentuated the curves of her lithe frame, while the silk skirt of the gown cascaded down to the floor in pleated waves. Her brunette hair was cut into a bob that ended sharply just above her shoulders. Her dark red lips turned slightly upwards in a demure smile when she reached Robin and Killian. "You two must be the journalists from TIME."

"Y–Yes, and, uh, you are?" Robin stammered, clearly getting an eyeful of the woman in front of him.

"Regina Mills, White House Chief of Staff." She informed them, extending her hand out to shake.

Robin returned in kind, taking a moment to find his words. "Robin Locksley. And, um, this is—"

"Killian Jones, milady." He spoke for himself, clearly not affected by the woman in the same way Robin was. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet the both of you. I'll be working with the two of you a lot, so I thought it would be good to introduce myself. Enjoy the festivities, and I'll come by later to introduce you to the first family." She smiled and gave a curt nod to the pair before lifting the skirt of her gown enough that she wouldn't trip on it and walking away with quick, but elegant, steps.

* * *

Emma watched her mother and father as they walked on stage to dance together.

Her mother was wearing the most gorgeous ivory dress that Emma had ever seen. It had beautiful, silvery white beading fanning out from a bejeweled clasp on the bodice and was admittedly a little flashier than her mother's usual fashion choices, but she looked every part a First Lady in it. She looked on as her parents danced, her father's arm around her mother's waist providing a stark contrast against the glittery whiteness of the dress as they moved under the spotlight.

Emma saw how her father looked at her mother with such love and adoration in his eyes, and she gratefully pondered for a moment how he had fought the odds to stay away from becoming another slimy, cheating politician. The love her father had for her mother was something she hoped to have one day. She thought she could have had it with Neal, but—

"Emma," She heard a hard, feminine voice rouse her from her thoughts. She turned around to see Regina looking back at her, no doubt about to drag her off to do some sort of political duty.

"Come with me," Regina commanded her, "your father is going to want to dance with you on the floor soon."

* * *

"That woman was bloody beautiful. Magnificent. And she must be smart as all hell, too. She just _has_ to be, working in a position like that." Robin blathered on to his friend.

"I get it Robin, you're smitten." Killian replied with a roll of his eyes, although it was unlike Robin to develop a crush so quickly. He must have had it _bad_.

"Am not. I'm merely admiring the great first impression that Regina gives off." Robin defended himself, grabbing a glass of water from one of the tables at the edge of the room and taking a sip from it before picking up another and handing it to Killian.

"Yeah, alright." Killian chuckled, accepting the water from his friend with a nod of thanks as a shaggy-haired blond man walked up behind the pair.

He grabbed a glass of water and turned to them, saying, "They really need to get something stronger out here."

"Too right, mate." Killian replied, sticking out his hand to greet the man. "Killian Jones." He said as a means of introduction.

"Oh, you're one of the journalists. I'm Victor Whale, White House doctor." He said, extending a hand for Killian to shake.

Robin spoke up, introducing himself, since no one else had bothered to. "Robin Locksley, the _other _journalist." He said, stepping in front of Killian and giving his friend a playful shove as he did so.

"Good to meet you two. You guys met the First Family yet?" Whale asked as he released Robin's hand and put his own hand into one of the pockets of his pants.

"Not yet, we're waiting for Regina Mills to come retrieve us." Killian answered before taking a quick sip from his glass/bottle.

"Ahh Regina." Victor spoke the name with a half smile and gave a quick chuckle. "She runs a tight schedule on those 3 sometimes."

"Tell me mate," Robin spoke up when he saw his opportunity, "is it Ms. Mills or Mrs. Mills?" When Victor furrowed his brow at the question, Robin cracked a nervous smile. "Curiosity."

Victor gave him a skeptical look. "_Ms_. Mills."

Robin took the information in stride, smiling a bit more than he probably should have.

The three of them walked a bit closer to the edge of the dance floor as Victor met up with his girlfriend, Ruby, and introduced her to the pair of journalists. She was wearing a body hugging red gown, and her hair flowed in soft curls well past her shoulders. She was a beautiful woman, and Killian could see why Victor seemed so taken with her.

The floor became a bit quieter than before as everyone watched the president begin to dance with his one and only daughter.

Killian looked on, entranced by the woman on the floor. The picture in the folder (as well as the few that he had seen of her in the press) did her little justice.

Ruby looked at Killian, noticing his obvious staring. "Doesn't she look wonderful? I did her hair, by the way. And her makeup." She said, clearly quite pleased with her own work.

"You're her stylist?" Killian asked, looking over at the long-haired brunette.

"Stylist. Best friend. Call it what you will." Ruby remarked, a friendly smile in place over her red-painted lips.

As Emma and her father finished the dance, she quickly said something to her father and walked over in the direction of the four of them. The gorgeous blue gown she wore had Killian at a loss for words, and he had to clench his jaw to keep it from falling open as he watched her cross the room to them, her hips swaying with every step she took. Her dress was fitted to the thigh, and the long, flowing skirt of it billowed around her as she gracefully made her way through the crowds, smiling and waving as she went.

Killian subconsciously stiffened his entire body and ran a hand through his messy black hair, trying to look presentable for this woman without actually realizing it.

When she reached her friends, she gave them both hugs in greeting before turning to Robin and Killian with a skeptical look, obviously noticing that there were two people standing in the group there weren't usually there. She gave Ruby a look that said_, 'are you going to introduce me or am I just going to stand here all night?'_

Before Ruby or Victor could manage an introduction, Killian stuck out a hand to Emma and approached her. Mustering up all of his swagger, he smiled and introduced himself. "Killian Jones."

For a moment, Emma seemed apt to return his flirty demeanor with one of her own, until Killian opened his mouth again. "Robin here and I," he said, pointing to the man at his side who had approached to shake Emma's hand as well, "are journalists from TIME."

In a split second Killian could sense the transformation Emma took from friendly and almost-flirty to political and calculating. Her smile faltered marginally as she held her head high and put her shoulders back. "Nice to meet the both of you."

He noticed the ever so slight change in her attitude, but tried to brush it off and gather his thoughts. _Bloody hell, she was even more beautiful up close_. (Well, so much for gathering his thoughts.) His mouth deceived him as he spoke what he was thinking. "You look beautiful." He said, his eyes raking over her thin frame. He looked around, noticing more people beginning to fill the dance floor. _You already opened your mouth and said something stupid, better not stop now. _"Would you like to dance?"

* * *

This guy was ballsy, that much was for sure. Not many men would so blatantly tell the daughter of the most powerful man in the world that she looked beautiful after _just_ meeting her. Even _fewer_ would ask for a dance. Emma was impressed by his guts, and decided to accept.

When he had grabbed her hand to lead her out onto the floor, she felt an unexpected spark fly through her body. _What the hell was that?_

_This guy is just a journalist looking for a story, _she reminded herself. Despite who he was, she couldn't deny that he was incredibly handsome. There was also the fact that she sensed something about him that made her want to trust him, but she did her best to think better of it.

"You're a good dancer." She admitted aloud as he twirled her around on the floor.

"You're not so bad yourself, Ms. Nolan." He returned the compliment, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

_That should _not_ be attractive_.

"I expected more secret service around your, uh, person." Killian commented in an off-hand manner as they continued to move together.

"They're here. It's kind of their job to stay inconspicuous though." She smiled a bit and leaned in a little closer, "You know, _Secret_ Service?"

Killian chuckled at that and nodded in understanding of her awful-yet-endearing pun. "Should have guessed as much. I bet they have a close eye on the devilishly handsome journalist whirling you around the floor."

Before Emma could say anything to dispute or agree with either part of his statement, Killian spun her around again, catching her by surprise.

Just as he had spun her back into his arms and opened his mouth to speak again, Regina had walked over with Robin in tow and interrupted them. "Good to see you two have already introduced yourselves."

Robin stayed silent at Regina's side, giving Killian a bit of a cold glare, but he brushed it off. If he was off cavorting with Ms. Mills (or so it seemed), Killian could just as well dance with Ms. Nolan.

(_Okay, maybe those two things were not quite on par with each other. But still – it's the principle.)_

Regina opened her mouth to speak as a tall statured man walked up behind her, holding hands with a small short-haired woman, and cut her off. "Hey Emma, who's this?" He said with an overtone of protection in his voice.

"Dad, this is Killian Jones. He's one of the journalists doing the TIME magazine story." She said, stepping aside so that the two men could make their introductions.

"I was wondering when I was going to meet the men doing this story that I keep hearing about. I didn't expect one of them to be dancing with my daughter, though." This man said with a bit of a hardened chuckle. He need not introduce himself, nor did the shorter raven-haired woman that stood beside him.

Robin and Killian both attempted to reply and extended their hands.

Killian was the first to speak and he shook the man's hand firmly, nodding his head in greeting. "Mr. President."


End file.
